Roses In December
by seven years
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a murderer. And Ginny Weasley knows it.
1. The Murder

**Disclaimer:** All things recognizable belong to JK Rowling.

**Notes:** This chapter serves more of a prologue than anything. I was aiming for a deadly kind of feel to it, where anything could happen in a matter of a moment—a very dangerous, suspenseful situation, and I hope the feelings came across the right way. Get ready for moodswings!Draco and Ginny, constant dreams and revelations, stealth, motives, and a very different sort of Christmas.

In other words, I hope you enjoy.

**Roses In December**

Part I

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_A murderer_, she thought frantically as she ran down the empty hallways. _He's a murderer_. Hot tears filled her vision, spilling over the edges to scald her cheeks.

_Murderer, murderer, murderer…._

The words seemed to echo in her mind, repeating over and over again, as if they meant to permanently engrave themselves there. Shivering uncontrollably, her books fell to the ground, a result of her clumsy fingers fumbling with the clasp of her book bag. Startled by the noise, she nervously bent down to retrieve it. She could not feel anything but raw fear; an immediate fear—the kind of fear that made all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, all of your muscles tensed, waiting for your nightmare to come alive right behind you.

Looking down past the hallways she had come from, there were no signs of anyone coming its way. Anyone else would have said it was completely deserted. But like a stealthy mirage, the edges of her vision blurred as if the hall was bustling with shuffling movement every few seconds.

_Relax_, she told herself firmly. _He probably hasn't even noticed_. Her heart did not stop pounding.

Her mouth ran dry, and her throat terribly parched as she thought of what she had witnessed only minutes ago. Her mind rewound despite not wanting to relive it, back to the dark, inky blood spilling out like tiny streams onto the floor. A fresh wave of nausea washed over her vision, remembering his filmy glass eyes staring at absolutely nothing; the cold look of death. And the tears would not stop coming. More and more in number, they fell rapidly, each one faster than the last. She struggled to keep silent as her chest quivered like a wounded bird.

_Tell a professor_. The voice came swiftly and suddenly. Her breath caught at the thought. Tell a professor? Could she?

_You have to**, **_the voice answered forcefully. _You owe it to him. You owe it to everyone else. You can't pretend it hasn't happened_.

Yes, she had to. Professor would take care of it. She took a hesitant step towards Professor McGonagall's office. That's what teachers were for. To console distressed students, and to help.

_You can't!_ She gasped and drew back at the new voice of protest. _If you tell her, he'll know._

The words sent chills down the entire length of her petite body, imagining the kind of fury he would be in if he indeed knew. Still, the tears came in barrages, and she hiccupped in fright.

But…surely, she could not just leave the boy for dead? Surely, she could not remain silent. How could she carry the guilt?

Nonetheless, fear had already marked its place deep within her as she weighed her options. The truth bore over her like a dark, ominous shadow.

_If you tell him_, it reminded her softly, like the gentlest of breezes, _he would kill you too._

Ginny shrank away from the direction of Professor McGonagall's office. No. She could not tell her. She trembled once more as she crumpled to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees.

She could tell no one.

------------------------

By the third day, she began losing hope that anyone would ever find out. She wondered where the body was now, where his blood dried—where his body slowly rotted, the stench of his consumed flesh rising in the air. What kinds of walls did his empty eyes stare at?

When she stopped in front of the classroom, she hesitated.

Perhaps, if she did not tell anyone—no one would ever find out…. She would be left to take the blame for leaving the murderer on the loose.

She had to spill. She simply had to inform someone—_anyone_—before she rotted away herself. A fierce determination grasped at her, compelling her away from her class.

Turning back on her heels sharply, she drove her way to Professor Dumbledore's office.

She would tell him, and he would comfort her. And who knew? She might be perfectly safe. Professor Dumbledore was a powerful wizard. He could give her protection, if the occasion arose. The murderer would be brought to justice, and wasn't that what really counted? She might be considered someone special, then. A hero, even.

With perhaps a little more confidence in her strides, she realized with a start of her heart that she was nearly to the gargoyles now. Her palms were coated with sweat as she approached the statues apprehensively. She was drilling over what she would say to him, exactly what she had seen, who it had been. He would ask her if she had been scared. She would say yes, she had been. He would smile and tell her she was a brave girl for coming here, and that everything was all right, and true to his word, they would be.

But a sudden billowing of black robes halted her fantasy.

Ginny cried out as a tall, dark figure faced her, bright gray eyes practically luminous in the dim light.

"Going somewhere?" Ginny's mind raced with thoughts. _Make up a lie_._ Tell him anything other than the truth. You still have a chance—he may not know what you have seen…._

But she could not lace two proper words together. Every part of her body was frozen with that same primal fear—her heart felt as if it would crack and shatter painfully any moment now.

"I-I was—I wasn't—" she stopped, her stutters fading off into the dead still air. He moved to trap her along the wall.

And in the next moment, she felt a distinct stinging sensation, before her eyes closed to submit to darkness, and relief.

--------------

She woke up dripping with cold sweat. Feeling disoriented, she swiveled her eyes around, waiting for the surroundings to become clearer. Where was she? The gray décor was one she did not recognize.

"Nice of you to join the conscious world again."

Ginny jumped at the intrusion of words, turning to her left to find the source.

There stood Draco Malfoy, looking cold and indifferent—and indefinitely proud. Ginny's face slackened in horror.

"Bastard," was the first word she spat at him. "Where have you taken me?"

"My dormitory," he said simply, motioning to the room. She saw his thin lips tug into a nasty smirk. "All alone with me, Ginny. Does that scare you?"

It did, more than he could ever know. Ginny clumsily sprang up from the bed.

"I'm going," she declared. "This is insane." She shot a glare at Draco. "You are mad."

"You're not going _anywhere_, Weasley."

He stepped in front of her, before pushing her back onto the bed. "Not until we get a few things straight."

He loomed over her with a scrutinizing stare.

"You see? There's no one else here, Ginny. They're all off at dinner. And you know, I would let you go too, if you did not know my little secret." He shook his head slowly. "You must be hungry. I bet you'd agree to anything if I let you go."

Ginny's sniffles were her only answers.

"Why are you crying, Ginny?" he asked softly, his eyes narrowing at the strange flood of tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. She wished he wouldn't say her name. She could not answer at all, nor could she help crying. She was being held captive in Malfoy's dorm—it was surreal and so _very_ real at the same time.

"Shame, perhaps?" he suggested smoothly. "Because that's what you should be feeling, Ginny." He was reprimanding her. "Shame, that you would even think about tattling on an old friend."

"You're nothing to me! Why shouldn't I tell everyone what you've done?" she burst out. Her hands shot out to push against him. He did not budge, and his own hands flew out to roughly grab her wrists.

"Let go!" she cried. "Let go of me!" His eyes narrowed into thin slits, with specks of gray peeking out. Ginny felt the hate radiating from his hateful eyes as he held her in place.

"I know what you saw, Ginny," he hissed. "You shouldn't have seen them."

Ginny took in a deep breath and struggled to look away from him. He answered by slamming her body against the wall behind the bed, her skull knocking against the hard stone. Dizzying colors appeared in front of her.

"Listen when I'm trying to tell you something important, Weasley," he whispered icily. " You better listen well." Ginny reluctantly turned to meet his cold, cold eyes again.

"If you _ever_ even think about babbling our little secret," he breathed, cupping her chin. "I think I shall feel compelled to hurt you," he said languidly. "I'll rip every part of your little body with my bare hands, and watch you writhe in the excruciating pain. Who knows? Perhaps I will even laugh. Imagine what your mother would say when she sees you. Just imagine." He stopped, his eyes fluttering for a moment as if he himself were flustered. He was sweating profusely, his grip on her slipping as he shook.

Ginny's stomach heaved at the violent imagery. Her head leaned down, refusing to look at him.

"I don't care," she said bravely. "You're still a murderer. Nothing changes that." He seemed to panic slightly at the words. His grip tightened again.

"No, I'm not," he grit his teeth and slammed her against the wall. "Listen to me! I am _not_ a murderer. You may have seen something, but you certainly don't understand it, you silly girl." Then, his voice was nearly beseeching. "Just don't tell a single soul."

"Understand?" he demanded, forcing her chin up again. She nodded quickly. Never tell. She would never tell. He would kill her, after all. As long as she knew, it didn't matter. It didn't matter, as long as he didn't hurt her.

"Never tell," she said obediently. His lips crooked up, and he reached up to wipe a tear away.

"Good girl." He seemed to have calmed down immediately at her compliance. His shoulders relaxed, and he even stepped away.

"I think," he said after a moment or two. "That it would be wise for you to stay with me during the holidays. No one will miss you, and coincidentally, all of my dorm mates have decided to go away for break."

Ginny glanced up, horrified. He wouldn't—he _couldn't_!

"Just in case you start getting any more ideas," he said with a grave face. "Just in case you think you can go play hero, like your little idol, Potter." Ginny glared and wriggled as far away from him as she could.

"I gave you my word! I told you I wouldn't tell anyone! Let me go!" she yelled. "I won't let you hold me captive; I've done nothing!" Draco gave a very nasty smile.

"Won't let me?" he repeated incredulously. "What gives you the authority to do that?"

"What gives you the authority to control me? I know something about you that could ruin you. I _could_ ruin you. And, what? Going to hex me, are you?" Ginny said daringly, knowing better. Draco did not seem to regard her as a threat whatsoever.

"I don't need silly little spells, Ginny," Draco said softly. "But then, I've already told you what would happen to you if you told. I mean it."

Ginny gasped out in pain and drew back immediately, wondering at the small trickle of blood forming along her wrist. She had not seen Draco with the small blade. But this time, she saw from the corner of his eye, that he quietly snuck the knife back into a nearly invisible pocket of his cloak.

"Do I need to make myself clearer?" he asked, but his voice shook, nonetheless. Ginny mutely shook her head.

"No," she said quietly, with a touch of bitterness. She was rapidly beginning to realize just what she had gotten herself into. She gazed upon his bristling figure and answered again.

"No, you don't."


	2. The Chamber

**A/N:** Yes, I am updating. Huge thanks to Darcie, my lovely beta! glomps

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns the settings and people in this story.

**Roses In December**

****

Part II

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There were no windows in his room. She shivered as she noticed this, watching the walls that kept her captive warily. She did not know how she could have fallen asleep, how she could have relaxed enough to let her mind drift into a state of peace.

She did not bother wondering where Draco was. Her fingers qwew aril pressed against the cut he had given her the night before, and she now saw the dried blood gathered at her finger tips. She thought only of escape, but even that was not a satisfying thought, for escape seemed such a fruitless attempt.

It turned out that in fact, he _did_ need spells to get what he wanted, for the door to his dorm was ridden with countless charms to prevent her leaving.

Her eyes drifted towards the pocketknife still on the table next to her. Staring at its glinting silver blade, she wondered whom it had been that he had murdered. His face had registered familiar, but not distinct. And for what had he been murdered? She cruelly imagined him lashing out violently at a mere disobedience, perhaps. It seemed perfectly plausible now, as she cursed Draco Malfoy in every way possible. If thoughts could kill, he would have dropped dead long ago.

More anger flooded through her at this thought. Anger that someone so inhuman should be unpunished, undiscovered of crime he had committed. For a moment, she thought about gripping the knife tightly in her hand. She entertained the thought of behind able to strike him with it as he entered the room.

She did not have long to wait before he returned, looking deathly pale and perspiring slightly.

" Come with me," he ordered, and said nothing more.

-----------

By the time they reached the door, the stench was unmistakable.

" What are you doing?" she asked, gagging from the smell. He stood in front of the door, one hand holding a wand. She noticed a long coil of rope stuffed messily inside the pockets of his slacks.

" Where are we?" He answered neither of the questions however, and simply muttered under his breath. The door swung open to reveal a broom closet. For a split second, Ginny blinked at the anticlimax. She had been awaiting some grand room, some dark, forbidden room.

But that was not what made Ginny cry out. Covering her mouth, for bile was quickly rising to her throat, she ducked and turned away. There it was—the body of the dead boy himself. His eyes still stared unblinkingly.

" Stop crying, Weasley. I can't have anyone hearing," he said as firmly as he could manage, but even still she caught a slight tremble in his own voice.

" I thought you would have gotten rid of it by now." It was all she could currently say on the matter. There was not much you could comment on in the face of a dead body; she could not bother being sympathetic to the boy at the moment, and merely wished it out of her sight. When he answered, his voice was tense.

" Well, obviously I haven't," he ground out through clenched teeth. " I didn't bring you with me for company, Ginny."

" And what is that supposed to mean?" Her voice turned slightly shrill at his implications. She would not have anything to do with the dead boy or his body.

" You're going to help me hide the body," he said wryly, giving it a soft kick so that it rolled over on its back. Ginny's face paled. She was silent for a minute.

" No," she said vehemently, as she thought of what his request meant. " I won't, Malfoy." She looked up at him with a tight jaw. " You can save your arse yourself."

She made to walk away, her heels clicking loudly on the ground.

She expected he would catch up to her, and he did.

" You're in no position to deny me anything, " he said nastily, but she could see the desperation in his eyes. " You're going to reopen the Chamber of Secrets for me, Weasley. We're going to hide my secret deep beneath the school, as you had once hid yours."

-----------

She had cried the whole way there, as she let herself be dragged to the location of the Chamber. With swollen eyes and a blurry vision, she found herself once more in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, a place she had avoided for all her years at Hogwarts since the first--something she would never admit to anyone.

" I thought I told you to stop crying!" he barked ferociously at her. She did not shrink back. How dare he drag her into this like this? Who did he think he was, to do this to her? She began to wish more than anything in the world that she had not been right then and there, been there at the perfect time to watch his murder….

" Don't tell me what to fucking do, Malfoy!" she shouted hoarsely, before her yell morphed into a cough. " Don't tell me to be like you; unfeeling and completely emotionless," she paused. " I'm sorry I can't be heartless, and I'm sorry that you are."

" Shut your mouth, Weasley," he warned her softly, and his quick strides brought him near to her. He held her wrist tightly. " Don't talk about me like you've known me all your life."

" I have known you all my life," she corrected him. " I've hated you all my life."

" Then you're naïve." He said heatedly, and she could see his eyes were burning with anger. Before she could ask what he meant, he turned around.

" Stop wasting time," he said. " Open it."

" You idiot! I'm not a parselmouth, I told you I can't—"

" How do you know that?" he challenged, whirling around to face her. " How do you know you can't?"

She clamped her mouth shut. She liked to think she was not justifying his immaturity with an answer, but truth be told, she did not have one. Was it possible that she could be one?

" Just open it," he said again. But this time, his voice sounded more coaxing than demanding. Ginny gave another half sob, before giving a mirthless laugh.

" Well," she said. " It seems like you're not giving me a choice."

" I never gave you a choice in anything," he said irately. " And I never will, Weasley. Do as I say now, before I lose my patience." She narrowed her eyes and glowered at him with as much intensity as she could muster.

" What if I don't remember how?" she gave a last half hearted attempt. She knew she was kidding herself, and perhaps he did too. She knew exactly which sink it was, like she had only opened it yesterday. Though she had very little memory while she was possessed by Tom Riddle, she did remember this clearly enough. Sighing desolately, he turned towards the sink with the miniscule snake etched underneath it, and opened her mouth. _Please don't let it open, please don't let it work, please, please…. _She closed her eyes and hands clenched shut.

" _Open up_," she whispered softly. She opened her eyes again, and her heart immediately sank, watching Malfoy's expression of delight.

Ginny felt her body shake as she watched the sink slowly open up to reveal the pipe leading down to the chamber.

" See?" he said softly, a strange look upon his face. " You do underestimate yourself."

-------------

The hiding of the body was messy and nothing she wanted to go through again. Feeling the dead boy's icy skin as they dragged him down the pipe made her feel faint and contaminated, and she felt as though death itself had rubbed off on her.

" What if they find it here?" she asked, not bothering to mask her hope.

" Then they find it," he said simply. " Stop asking stupid questions." He was nervous, however. In the dim light filtering in through the opening at the top, sweat was rolling down his temples. They quickly reached the bottom, where the pipe gave out to a small opening.

" Stuff it here," he grunted. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. Didn't he want to be more discreet, and hide it in a deeper chasm of the chamber? Or perhaps it could be that he was perturbed by the act, just as much as she was, if not more. She quickly brushed the thought away. It was already established that he was clearly not feeling the slightest guilty about any of this, she reminded herself.

" Get me out of here," she sucked in a breath, not wanting to breathe any more of the foul air down in the chamber. He nodded mutely, kicking the body roughly aside and working clumsily to cover it up the best he could with the bones and garbage lying around. Then, he reached for the rope that he had secured up on the other side.

" We're climbing up?" Ginny asked incredulously. She gulped nervously.

" The stupid questions once again," he growled. " How else do you propose we get out? Unless you have a broomstick hidden somewhere? And even then, how do you mean to maneuver us up there?"

Ginny said nothing as he swiftly disappeared into darkness. A few minutes later, she heard his voice calling down.

" Damn it, Weasley, hurry up!" Wiping her sweaty hands on her robes, she gingerly grabbed onto the rough rope, before hoisting her feet up onto the big knot at the end. Wrapping her legs around the rope, she began to move her hands, pushing upwards at a slow pace.

Soon enough, her hands began to burn and her arms tired.

" Weasley, if you don't come out of there—"

She halted to a stop, feeling all the last strength drain out of her.

" I can't," she said faintly, but her voice carried through to him. " I can't."

" What the hell do you mean, you can't?"

" What do you think I mean?" she groaned. Her hands were much too slippery. She was slowly falling down already…. Oh, it was going to take forever to get out! " I can't climb anymore! Oh, God—I'm going to fall, Malfoy…help me!"

For a good moment or two, Ginny thought he had left her. She could not hear his angry remarks, or his footsteps, or anything else for that matter.

She let out a barely audible sigh of relief as she saw him coming back down, slowly, for she was still too far down for him to reach down and grab her hand. Giving her a look of utmost contempt, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up slightly, to his level, before grabbing around her waist so as not to lose her. Face tense and slightly pink from the effort; he slowly made his way back up. Ginny felt disgusted at herself even as she clung to his shirt—but what other choice did she have? It seemed that the past few days had turned her entire world topsy turvy. She, asking help from Draco Malfoy, and he—he gave it to her. She wondered for a moment why he had not really left her down there. It would have gotten rid of her, certainly.

She did not know what to call strange anymore; everything was to be expected.

When they reached the top and climbed onto the bathroom tile, he instantly let go of her.

" Can't even bloody climb up a piece of rope, can you?"

" A little gratuity never hurt anyone, Malfoy, " Ginny said bitterly, feeling filthy at the dirt and grime that stuck to her. " I only helped you hide the body of the person you've _killed_." Her face was beet red; she could tell by the way heat radiated from the general area of her cheeks.

" You only helped me because you had to, Weasley," he said with a silent fury. " Don't think I don't know that."

" This isn't at all about justice and fairness and owing people," Ginny suddenly shook her head at the revelation. "I don't even know why I'm arguing with you."

" I don't either," he agreed for once. " But you Gryffindors seem to like keeping score."

" Well," she scowled at him. " We're even."

But as she began to turn away, she thought she saw his expression slightly soften, before muttering, " Hardly."

She pretended not to hear.

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	3. The Decision

**A/N:** I'm really sorry for the long wait, and I promise that it won't happen again! Once again thanks to my wonderful and helpful beta, Darcie! Thanks!

**Roses In December**

Part III

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The long walk back to Draco's dormitory lasted a century, perhaps even an era or two. Ginny hobbled on, feeling tired and old behind him.

The corridors seemed to purposely stretch into infinity, but at long last the slightly moldy smell of the stone dungeons came in sight. Draco uttered the password and they stepped inside.

"Thanks," he muttered gruffly, barely audibly. Ginny, instead of feeling extremely surprised and softening at his words of gratitude—she felt angry.

"They'll catch you soon enough, anyway," she said. "They'll find whoever it was you killed. So no thanks needed. They'll find him, and they'll find you."

"They won't, Weasley!" He sounded like he was reassuring himself, as he threw his hands up in the air. "They won't ever fucking know! So just shut your mouth!"

"Don't tell me what to do, Malfoy!" Ginny retorted hotly, her cheeks red.

Giving a half grunt, half sigh, Draco turned sharply on his heels and walked briskly to his room.

The hall echoed with his footsteps.

--

She stayed out there for three hours, twenty-four minutes and 5, 6, 7, 8 seconds, in constant fear that a Slytherin might enter and ask what she was doing here. She wondered the same. What was she doing here? She felt a lump form in her throat.

_No use_, a sensible voice said coaxingly. _No use in going over that again. What has happened has happened._

But she couldn't go back to Draco's room and sleep, like she so desperately wanted to. She was raised to have more dignity than that.

_That's not dignity_, the voice returned again, sleepily. _That's being foolhardy. Being unnecessary stubborn. Now, doesn't a nice, soft bed sound nice?_

Reason always won with her.

Tiptoeing back to the third door to the right, Draco's, she pressed her ear against the wooden door.

Nothing.

Didn't the boy make a sound? Ginny bit her lip. What if he was sleeping already? She'd be stuck out here all night, and then surely someone would catch her.

Turning around and pressing her back against the door, she sighed. Perhaps she would let herself be caught. That way, maybe she could get away from Malfoy and whatever he had planned for her.

Ginny gasped and lost her balance as the doors suddenly sprang open. Falling ungracefully to the cold floor inside the dormitory, she glared.

"Get in," Draco said emotionlessly, before closing the door and climbing back into his own bed.

"And where am I supposed to sleep?" she asked haughtily. "It's not break yet, so no one has gone home, have they?"

She felt bile rise to her throat as Malfoy gave a wicked smirk.

"Well, I guess that leaves you with no choice, then," he said softly. Ginny dreaded the words that he would surely say next; that she would be fated to sleep next to him. Would she be reduced to some common whore now?

"You can sleep on the floor next to my bed," he said instead. Ginny gaped, relief spreading throughout her body. And then, she felt a burst of outrage.

"On the floor? It's freezing!" she protested. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Then what? You think I would give up my own bed for you?"

"That would be the gentlemanly thing to do."

Draco merely laughed.

"What if someone sees me?" Ginny added. Draco rolled his eyes.

"My bed is on the edge, Weasley. No one is going to come over here to check if there's someone lying next to my bed," he glanced at her. "You know how to be discreet, don't you?"

Ginny stood still, focusing all her hatred on the horrible little monster in front of her. Oh, how she wished he would just drop down dead, just like that poor boy he had….

_Don't you dare think about that_.

Ginny composed herself, and then gave a small nod.

"Good," Draco said. He threw over a blanket and a pillow. "Then go to bed before the others get here."

As Ginny tried to rest her body upon the cold, textured tile that she lay on, she wondered how she would survive for the next few days until break began. The cold stone wall nearly pressed against her cheek, and the thin blanket did nothing to keep the cold from melting into every part of her skin.

--

By early next day, Ginny was beginning to learn that no one got up as early as Draco Malfoy. But then again, by the time she awoke, everyone else had gotten up and left too—but Draco's bed was kept clean and organized, with not a single wrinkle in his bed sheets. Ginny yawned and peered at the note left on his bed.

_Meet me by the corridor leading to the library at breakfast._

Ginny frowned as her stomach growled. Biting her lip, and wondering as she dressed if perhaps her skirt had grown looser, she knew that with this constant, overbearing dread did not relent, she would not make it to Christmas.

--

"I hate you," Ginny spat as she listened to what he was telling her. Draco looked at her blandly.

"How that knowledge scars me," he said dryly. "Just do as I say."

"Of course," Ginny replied bitterly. "What am I now, your bloody servant?"

"I guess you could say that. You obey because you have to, don't you? That's what servants are."

Ginny took a step back.

"Well, I refuse."

"I thought we discussed this already, Ginny," he said slowly and with patience. "I don't want to hurt you."

Ginny threw her head back and laughed.

"Ha! You don't want to hurt me?" she asked incredulously. Her eyes were shining manically. " It's in your nature to want to hurt, you horrible monster," Ginny snapped. "So don't you dare lie to me."

Then, Ginny recoiled in slight surprise as Draco advanced towards her harboring deep hurt in his eyes.

"What do you know about me, Weasley? How do you go around acting like you've got me all figured out?" he yelled, not caring whether or not anyone heard. "If you hadn't been snooping around, I would never have to do this—"

"I wasn't snooping around!" she yelled, her volume matching his. Her ears were ringing. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time!"

"No, you were curious," Draco shook his head. "You should have run when you heard voices."

"You're wrong," Ginny said. "You're only trying to take me captive because you're a coward. You're too scared of what would happen to you if anyone found out, so you're trying to quell me."

Draco didn't answer, but Ginny doubted he was rendered speechless.

"You're right," he said finally. Ginny felt a small dose of surprise, but more so a sense of pride for being right. "I am a coward."

He leaned in, and then whispered in Ginny's ear in exactly the way she hated most.

"But you'll do as I say."

--

Classes weren't the same. How could anyone concentrate, anyway, if they had such a colossal problem resting on their shoulders? How could anyone remember the right ingredients, in what order, if their mind was far, far away on a boy who's mere image made her want to break down and cry?

"Another failing grade, Miss Weasley?" Snape advanced on her like a skilled predator on the prowl for fresh meat. These days, it was always her. "But perhaps a little detention would amend matters," he droned on. Ginny barely listened. Instead, she nearly felt happy. Detention would mean less time spent with Malfoy.

"Yes sir," Ginny said absentmindedly. "Right after I cross my name off the list, sir."

Professor Snape gave the hazy eyed girl an odd look, but said no more.

--

"Do it," he mouthed from across the hall. Ginny's hands felt sweaty. This felt like her last chance to escape him, and so far, she could not think of a way to get out of it.

Finally, seeing no choice, Ginny stood up. Striding towards the long list of students going home for break, she searched for her own name.

Taking a quill from her bag, she leaned forward to carefully scratch it out. She froze when she saw from the side that her brother was standing there.

"What are you doing, Gin?" he asked, mildly concerned. Ginny gulped, her mouth feeling inexplicably dry.

"I-I'm not going home, Ron," she said firmly, even managing to plant a small smile on her face.

"Why not?" Ron asked, frowning. "Gin, Mum and Dad were looking forward to it!"

Ginny shrugged. She couldn't think of a reason fast enough.

"I don't now—I just—"

"Because of me, Weasley." Ginny closed her eyes. Why did he have to interfere? Why did he have to ruin everything? Her heart pounded with the knowledge of what was to come.

"And what the bloody hell does that mean, Malfoy?" Ron said, his voice rising significantly.

"The silly thing's completely besotted with me," he said smoothly. Ginny turned red, at once cursing him and wondering how he could lie so well.

_He's only a deatheater, Gin_.

"What?" Ron asked, his voice suddenly small. He turned to her. "What's this bugger talking about?"

All eyes looked upon Ginny. Draco's cold gray ones reminded her of the consequences if she gave the wrong answer.

Keeping her eyes wide open to prevent her eyes from growing wet, she shrugged indifferently.

"I want to spend more time with him."

Ron let go.

"_What_?" he bellowed, face red, so very, very red. "Ginny, have you lost your mind?"

Ginny kept her stance, slanting her eyes slightly to glance at Draco. The corners of his lips were lifting.

"It's my choice, Ron, " she said with power.

"I'm staying here."


	4. The Evidence

**A/N:** Update! Happy Fourth of July, to those of you in America. As for the D/G action some of you have asked for—it's coming. But really, the whole story has been D/G action, as that is whom Ginny has interacted with so far. But if you mean innuendos and the like…it's coming very soon. And a wee bit at the end here.

Thanks to Darcie for the beta :-)

**Disclaimer:** JKR owns the settings and people in this story.

**Roses In December**

Part IV

------

Ginny stormed back to Draco's common room in a fleeing anger. He caught up to her before she could enter, his firm grip whirling her around.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked harshly. She turned away, trying to shrug him off. He persisted.

"Why did you have to tell him that I was _'besotted'_ with you?" she glared. "Do you know how angry he would be with me? How angry he was? How he will think I have gone crazy? You can punish me if you want, but I won't allow you to tell horrid lies to my family!"

"What would you have me tell him, then, Ginny?" he asked. "Do you have any marvelous ideas for us?" he looked at her squarely in the eye. "Something else that could be more buyable?"

"Anything's more buyable than the silly excuse you gave!" she spat.

His angry features instantly smoothened out expressionlessly, but his cold, calculating eyes told her otherwise.

"I'm sorry you think it's ridiculous for anyone to love me."

Ginny gaped, a sinking feeling falling in her stomach; Draco wordlessly climbed into the common room.

"Look, that's not—it's not—"

"Save it," he said curtly. "I know perfectly well what you meant."

--

Once again, Ginny awoke to an empty dorm room, this time shivering madly. The second night of sleeping on the icy floor seemed to have done its charm on her. The tip of her nose was frozen, and her throat tingled a little.

_Just three more nights until break…and then I can have my own bed_…

On Draco's, the same note lay there upon the silken sheets, commanding the same thing.

--

"What are we doing today?" Ginny asked, perhaps a little more cheerfully than she should have.

She was still feeling a bit guilty about what she had said the night before, although it was entirely true. By all means, she should not even be feeling any sympathy for this murderer. But the look he had given her might have made anyone melt a little.

If he noticed her eagerness to obey, he didn't show it.

"We're destroying evidence," he said.

"But, didn't we—" Ginny stopped.

Draco walked on ahead, and motioned her to follow.

"Draco, I have a class in thirty minutes!"

"We can finish during lunch and dinner."

Ginny mumbled quietly, but followed. It looked like she would be missing her meals for a few days.

Her stomach grumbled back in response.

--

"Oh, _God_," Ginny moaned, clutching her nose at the horrible stench that arose. It made her mouth go dry and her stomach churn angrily. The smell hung thickly and impenetrably through the enclosed air; it seemed to grasp at her.

"Better get used to it," Draco suggested. "We're cleaning out all the blood, the smell; everything."

"Well, that'll be easy enough," said Ginny determinedly, pulling out her wand.

Draco shook his head.

"We're going to be extra careful, and scrub the floors and walls by way of actual labor, and then spell them clean again."

"But that will take forever!" Ginny objected, feeling weak at the thought of getting on her knees, her face level with the rancid smell. But upon Draco's face was an indestructible determination.

"Have you even scrubbed floors before?" she asked. He looked as if he would not answer.

"I guess we better get started then," he said stiffly.

--

Thirty minutes later, Ginny threw her sponge down. _Squish_, it said as it hit the soapy floor. Wiping the sweat off of her brow, she stood up. The closet still had the rank smell of death, but it was fainter, and not the sharp, dizzying intensity it had been before.

"What are you doing?" Draco questioned. He looked oddly humbled by the way he was crouching across the floor, his hair mussed and his knuckles red.

"Classes, Draco," Ginny reminded him. "We have classes."

A sour look crossed his face.

"Fine," he relented. "We'll continue this during lunch. Let's hope to God someone doesn't find this closet before then."

Ginny bit her lips as she watched him stand up slowly. It seemed like she was observing him for the first time, and what an odd time to do so. He was tall, but seemed crouched over a little, making him seem almost weak. There were tiny specks of fear still embedded into his gray eyes.

Before she could stop herself, she was feeling an unmistakable pang of desire to comfort him. He looked so tired, after all, and she was suddenly reminded that perhaps, he was human. Human enough to feel fear, despite being a—well, heartless murderer.

"No one's found this room for nearly a week, Draco," she told him quietly. "I think you'll be safe for another couple hours."

Giving him a fleeting smile, and then replacing it before he could truly see it, she picked up her bag and walked on ahead of him.

--

Ginny went to her classes. Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Potions. All of her professors' lessons seeped through her skull as if it were a sponge.

Which reminded her of cleaning. Which reminded her of Draco. Which was the only thing she could think about. She wondered if she had given in to him already. She curled up in her chair and chewed on the end of the quill. She thought of Draco and waited for a surge of anger to come. None.

She hadn't argued with him once today, and instead had been nearly reassuring. One minute she was cursing his existence, the next she was feeling terrible for him, and then again she was telling herself he didn't deserve it.

She soon found herself peering into the soapy, yet dirty bucket.

"Think we should change the water," she muttered, before muttering a spell that replaced it. Draco stood against the door with a large, yellow sponge that did not befit him.

"We don't have much left to do," he said authoritatively, before going down to his knees. "I expect we'll be finished before lunch ends."

Ginny looked up at him and nodded, before starting on the wall she had left off on. They immersed themselves in the gentle _scrub-scrub_ sound as they washed.

"I don't know how they do it," he said darkly and suddenly. Ginny looked over her shoulder.

"Who?"

He seemed to hesitate, and avoided her stare.

"The Muggles. Don't know how they do this manual labor. I heard wives do this cleaning bit nearly every day."

Ginny gave a small chuckle.

"Kind of amazing, aren't they?"

"I won't admit anything of the sort," Draco said grudgingly, but no doubt there was some renewed respect in his voice as he eyed his red and tired hands and arms.

"Well, of course you won't," Ginny agreed. "Too prideful, aren't you?" But her tone was not spiteful.

He didn't answer. When their short conversation halted to a stop, Ginny pursed her lips and went back to furiously rubbing a particularly nasty stain. The silence left her to think about things, and she didn't know if that was good or not. She looked at the spot and couldn't help but wonder who had caused it.

"Who was it?" Ginny burst out, before she could stop herself. Draco did not answer.

"Who did you kill, I mean…." She trailed off and felt foolish. Draco gave a small snort.

"Why, so you can go tell someone?" he asked, perhaps more severely than he had intended. Ginny's mouth dropped immediately to protest as her brows knitted into a frown.

"No! So you can stop assuming I'm out to get you, Malfoy!" she scolded, giving a hard jab at the wall. Draco did not retort, nor apologize. He didn't say anything for a minute, and all that was heard was the sound of him working. And then, he did speak, calmness barely withheld.

"It wasn't anyone in your house, if that's what you were wondering," he said. "It wasn't anyone in any of the other three houses. It was my own kind. Does that make you feel better?"

Ginny searched for the right words to say. She felt angry, and at the same time, incredibly sad and morose.

"How can you say that?" she asked. "Of course that doesn't make me feel better."

"No," he agreed. "Nothing seems to please you."

--

That night began as quite possibly one of the coldest she had ever endured.

On several occasions she could not hold back and sneezed aloud, before curling up and shivering again. Every bit of cold air in the room was seeping thickly into her bones. Draco shifted uncomfortably from above her, probably wondering if the others had heard.

They hadn't. The rest of his dorm mates were sound asleep and snoring softly. Ginny had noticed that although the first to rise, Draco was never the first to sleep. She had always sensed his alert presence beside her up until the last moment before she let herself drift into unconsciousness.

Her nose tingled again, and Ginny screwed her eyes shut before slapping her hand to her mouth and nose in an attempt to stifle the noise. It came out muffled and contorted.

"Don't you dare wipe your hand on my pillow," came his hushed voice as he leaned over his bed. Ginny trembled in response. A moment later, she felt a lightweight something upon her body; Draco had thrown down a blanket. Warmth flooded through her almost immediately.

She felt his hands brush over her body to better tuck her in the comforter, and her eyes closed in peace.

"Go to sleep," he ordered soothingly. She complied, and dreamt in warm colors.

--


End file.
